


A Cry For Help Does Not Unanswered Go

by Fictionista654



Category: Merlin (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 07:52:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18311360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionista654/pseuds/Fictionista654
Summary: When she's almost killed by the serkets, Morgana accidentally summons a god. First chapter set during 2x3.





	A Cry For Help Does Not Unanswered Go

**Author's Note:**

> I love both these women so much, and I thought it would be really interesting to put them in a work together!

Julia’s crazy. Or maybe she’s finally sane. Get too close to a black hole, and you’ll exist forever. Its event horizon is infinite. Using the transitive property, Julia is now the event horizon of a black hole. A good proof goes both ways. Julia goes every way. Her tree has roots in the future and the past. She loves, immensely. She is everything, immensely. The right side of the world is upside-down. 

She is become life, mother of worlds. At the end of each branch is a universe. Open eyes, open heart. R_e_y_n_a_r_d is dust and ash on her fingertips. She is open sky and falling earth. Oh, Quentin, Quentin, so tiny, so tiny. Fillory above and everything below. Gods and gods and gods. Humans all around like snow from the sky, caught on her mittens. She hears their supplications and breathes in their prayers. _Our lady of the tree_ and she is alive and alive and more than alive. 

Julia, she is Julia, her name a prayer, her voice a song, Julia, Julia. Julia, in the tree. Julia, in earth. Julia, spread out over the Neitherlands, dipping inside every well, growing her web of magic until everything is Julia Julia Julia, sing a song of Julia.

HELP shivers along her roots HELP screams up her trunk HELP Julia bends toward the sound HELP it is coming from a fountain HELP SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP 

It has been both a second and a thousand years since Julia was flesh, and she reverse-Niffins herself, spins a clump of density and drags a forest to shape herself. She settles on the forest floor, great and terrible, bark-skin and sap-blood and the voice of a thunderstorm. The girl, the woman, the child in the red cloak, the Little Red Riding Hood, the lost witch stares in terror from her spot in the ground, stares up at Julia, as the serkets close in all around.

A serket is a secret and a secret is nothing more than magic and Julia sends them scattering with a thought and a twitch of a twig. 

“What are you?” breathes the witch-child, little girl, woman of magic. Julia tastes the air. Magic is different here than it is on Earth or even Fillory, less cultivated, less harnessed. Spells are verbs without conjugation, rough and wild and everywhere. 

“You called for me,” says Julia. “I heard you in my tree.”

The girl groans in pain and clutches her leg. “It stung me.”

Julia closes the distance in the time it takes the girl-witch-woman to blink. She blows against the wound, and her breath carries healing. Red-Riding Hood’s eyes flicker; she is falling down to sleep. Julia cups her hand around the girl’s face. Already her tree is calling her back, but already Julia knows that she will return, to this land, to this girl.

After all, Julia cannot start a story without learning how it ends.


End file.
